Behave Jim
by supremegreendragon
Summary: Moriarty didn't die but sometimes Moran wondered if it would be better if he had. And sometimes he enjoyed this new Jim. OOC!Jim Retarded!Jim Dom!Moran Mormor and slightly onesided MycroftxMoriarty
1. Chapter 1

Warning: AU and OOC. Moriarty will occasionally switch back to his real self but he won't be that way for long. Sorry about that.

* * *

Sitting on the plush armchair was a skinny blonde-haired warrior with a pointy chin and piercing eyes. He was taking a deep drag of a cigarette before blowing the puffs of smoke into the air. He tried not to think about the man who was sitting on the floor in front of him.

Moran loved Jim too much. He loved him enough to take him in after that little incident. The incident that would not be named. The one that took the Jim he knew and loved away and left him with this sniffling mess.

Jim was trying to hide it inside his sleeve. Moran continued to smoke while the other man pretended to be interested in the telly. It was showing one of those overdone zombie movies.

"Don't watch this. It will scare you," Moran ordered.

Jim looked at him with pitiful eyes. Moran was disgusted by how weak he was. The most brilliant man on earth now had the brains of a three year old child. If Jim was in his right mind, Moran would ask him if it was worth it.

People thought that Jim was dead, which Moran was grateful for. It made the whole situation slightly less complicated.

"Can I change the channel, Seb?" asked Jim.

The sniper flicked ash into a tray that was set on the table next to him. Instead of answering, Moran took the remote himself and changed the channel to a cooking show. Jim liked this one for some reason.

Jim smiled at him and turned around to watch Bobby Hunter do his cooking show. The cook was rubbing in some spices into a slab of meat and telling the audience how long to bake it and how hot the oven should be.

Moran allowed Jim to feel safe for now. But when the first commercial came, Moran decided that it was time.

"What's underneath your sleeve, Jim?" he asked slyly.

Jim jumped as if he just heard a gunshot. The ex-genius flustered and held onto his sleeve.

"What? Nothing," he insisted loudly.

Moran sighed and got out of the chair. He came closer, towering over the small figure.

"Then show it to me," he demanded.

Jim frowned and crawled away. Moran grabbed him and wrenched the item out of the man's hand. Just like Moran thought, it was one of those store-bought rectangle cookies.

He tossed the treat into the trash without even looking at the trash can. It went in easily. Tears were welling inside Jim's eyes and Moran wanted to scream.

"Are...are you mad at me?" Jim asked.

But damn was that cute, thought Moran. Even retarded, Jim was the only person Moran could love. And at least he wasn't dead, right?

But if Moran was going to take on the role of his protector and master, then he had to let Jim know that the rules were meant to be followed.

"You know you're not supposed to eat anything like that. You didn't finish your dinner so you don't deserve a cookie," Moran explained simply.

"But I wanted it."

Moran tried not to smile. That sounded like the typical Jim logic, genius or not. He was grateful that he could occasionally see bits and pieces of his Jim. The one that took what he wanted when he wanted and showed no remorse.

The sniper gave him his evil glare and Jim recoiled. Moran hated, hated having to punish Jim. But it had to be done. To keep his former boss safe.

Jim yelped when Moran picked him up and threw him over his shoulder as easily as if he were grabbing a pet dog. Moran went back to the chair and placed Jim face down over his lap. Jim knew that he wasn't suppose to but he struggled anyway. That was going to cost him extra. The punishment had gone from 10 strikes to 15.

He smacked Jim's rear hard, causing the smaller man to gasp.

"Count them out," Moran ordered.

"O-one," Jim stammered. He was already starting to cry.

Moran closed his eyes and sighed. Why did it have to be this way?

He hit Jim again and again. Loud smacking noises echoed from the contact of hand against bottom. Finally, the last strike landed.

"15!" Jim cried out.

His pants were still on but Moran knew that Jim's ass was at the very least a bit pink. It might have been a harsh punishment for taking a cookie but Moran was determined to mold this man until Jim was doing everything that he said.

It occurred to him that Jim could have eaten the cookie before he went into the room. Moran knew that deep down, Jim _wanted_ to get caught. He wanted discipline, even if the small man didn't know it.

Moran rubbed the crying Jim's back in soothing circles. It seemed to ease his pain quite a bit.

"I'm sorry, Seb," he murmured.

"It's okay. If you eat your entire dinner next time then you can have a cookie," Moran promised, content with Jim sprawled out on his lap.

"There won't be an broccoli in it, will there?"

It was that vegetable that Jim absolutely couldn't stand. He had picked around them in his Asian noodles, even though Moran told him to eat them.

"No," Moran said, "But there will be peas."

"I don't like peas that much," Jim muttered bitterly.

"You like them better than you like broccoli, right?" Moran cooed.

"Yes."

Even though Moran would like nothing more than to have his real Jim back, somewhere in the back of his mind he felt like he could get used to having complete control. His protective nature over his boss was now in overdrive because of the incident. And for some reason, Moran absolutely loved it.

"It's almost time for bed. Brush your teeth and wash your face," Moran instructed.

Jim saw that he was allowed to get off of Moran. He stood up, revealing eyes that were slightly pink from crying.

All Moran could think was how this wasn't his Jim. But who was it?

* * *

I was trying to write Moriarty in a situation that would make people feel bad for him. I usually make Moriarty the villain in these kinds of stories so I tried my hand on a fic where he's the victim. This was a request from a friend of mine. I hope you like it.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim hesitantly opened his eyes. His head hurt terribly and he couldn't remember anything. Where was Sebby? Why was he tied up? He was so scared.

The room was big enough to throw a party in. The bed he was lying down on had a soft, yellow comforter that complemented the green walls all around him. On the wall there was a wooden clock shaped almost like a birdhouse.

"Ah! You're awake," a man came through the door.

Had Jim ever seen this man before? He couldn't remember if he did or not. The man was holding onto an umbrella, making Jim wonder if it was raining outside.

"Who're you?" Jim asked and realized that his voice slurred.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes. You've caused a lot of trouble for my brother, you know," the man said.

His eyes were dark and malicious. Jim squirmed in the rope.

"Where's Sebby?" he asked.

Mycroft frowned in confusion.

"I don't know who Sebby is. I realize that you've suffered some brain damage after your so-called death. I suppose you won't be any trouble anymore."

Jim looked at him.

"Why am I here?" he asked after some silence.

Mycroft came and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand came up and ran through Jim's hair.

"I need," Mycroft paused, "To punish you."

Jim's fear went skyrocketing. He remembered how Sebby punished him. He didn't want another spanking. Beside, only Sebby could punish him. A stranger couldn't do that.

"I want to go home," Jim complained in a sad voice.

Mycroft smirked as his finger trailed to the tip of Jim's nose. Jim was so anxious right now that he felt like throwing up. Where was Sebby? Tears began forming in his eyes.

"None of that now," Mycroft whispered gently, "No tears. I just want to make sure you don't misbehave anymore."

What was this guy going to do? The possibilities swarmed inside Jim's head and stung like angry bees. He squirmed in his ropes with his face reddening.

"Let me go. Let me go! SEBBY!"

Mycroft edged away from the man. He looked surprised by Jim's response.

"You're a lot different than before," he said.

Tears were now liberally falling from Jim's eyes. They trailed down his cheeks and soaked the plush pillow that his head was resting on. Mycroft watched him cry in silence.

After a while, Jim's whimpers grew soft. Mycroft motioned toward the clock.

"Do you know what time it is?" he asked the brain-damaged man.

Jim looked at the clock. It took a second but he figured it out.

"It's...9:14," he said meekly.

Mycroft nodded his head to show that Jim was correct.

"You'll be punished at exactly 5 'o clock. I'm very punctual so expect it to be on the dot."

"What are you going to do?" Jim asked with fear in his voice.

The kidnapper waved his finger.

"Tut tut. It's better for you to sweat it out, don't you agree? But you must be getting hungry. I'll get you some breakfast."

The man left the room. The rope was attached to the edge of the beds, so Jim couldn't move around much. He glanced nervously at the clock. Even though he knew it would be a few hours before that clock hits 5, he was afraid that it was going to jump to that time the next time he looked at it.

He whimpered some more but didn't cry. Sebby had to find him. Somehow.

The door opened back up. Mycroft came in with a tray. There was some guy following him with a chair. The man wordlessly placed the chair in front of the bed and Mycroft took a seat. Mycroft waved his hand and the other man left.

On the tray was an omelette with lots of diced peppers and onions. There was a little bit of cheese oozing from the eggs. Some whole wheat toast and a glass of orange juice was placed on the side.

"I want Sebby," Jim said.

"Sebby's not here. Take a bite," Mycroft forked up some eggs and held it close to Jim's lips.

Jim's stomach growled. Truthfully he liked onions and peppers. He opened up and let the food inside. It was delicious.

Sebby told him not to talk to strangers, right? But he didn't say anything about taking food from them. Right? Jim ate another bite. Then Mycroft grabbed the glass and gave Jim a drink. He took it away after Jim had a sip.

"I wasn't done," insisted Jim.

Uh no. Why was he still talking to this stranger? Jim should stop immediately. Sebby was going to be so angry with him. The sniper might not save him now because Jim didn't do what he said.

"You want to make sure you still have some juice to wash down the rest of the meal, don't you?" Mycroft asked.

"I guess," Jim didn't sound sure. He didn't really have to wash down his food with a drink. He never had.

Mycroft gave him a piece of toast with some strawberry jam on it. It gave a nice crunch when Jim bit into it. The jam didn't taste like the kind that Moran bought for him.

"What kind of jam is that?" he asked.

He figured he already started talking to Mycroft. Might as well keep talking to him.

"Freshly homemade. You can't buy it in stores," Mycroft beamed with pride.

"You make homemade jam?" Jim asked in awe, quite forgetting that this man was his kidnapper.

The elder Holmes laughed and shook his head.

"No, silly. I payed someone to do that. You know, I like this side of you. You're so innocent and...cute. You remind me of Sherlock when he was just a small boy."

Jim's ears perked up. Sherlock. He knew he heard that name before. But why couldn't he remember? It was so hard to get his brain to recall anything.

Mycroft continued to feed him while Jim tried to think who Sherlock was. In a short while, Jim had ate all his food and ate all his juice. Mycroft smiled at him pleasantly. He no longer looked demented or evil. Maybe he wasn't going to punish him after all? It was a very hopeful thought for Jim.

"When can I see Sebby again?" he asked.

Mycroft didn't frown but his eyebrows creased in a hint of displeasure.

"Be good and maybe you'll see him soon. I have some things to do. You'll be untied shortly and we'll have tea at noon. I want to get to know you a little more. You're fascinating."

Jim didn't know if he liked that compliment or not.


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe this Mycroft Holmes wasn't so bad after all. They were seated at the dining table, where the table took almost the entire room. Jim was forced to sit very close to Mycroft and Mycroft sat at the head of the table. A plate of delicious home-baked cookies was in front of Jim. The chocolate chips were wonderfully big and satisfied Jim's taste for chocolate.

The tea was mint flavored. Jim put several lumps of sugar in his before Mycroft told him to stop. Jim did, only because he was scared of the guards that stood like statues all around the room. The guards were armed but not looking at them. But Jim knew that they were alive, despite how motionless they were, and they could attack at any second.

Mycroft sweetened his tea pretty liberally as well, adding a bit of sugar and honey. He also helped himself to a few cookies. Jim was surprised at this man's sweet tooth.

Even though Mycroft got a few points in Jim's favor for giving him some cookies, Jim still wanted to go home. And he definitely didn't want to be punished. He glanced at the clock to find that it was nearing 1 in the afternoon. Reading the clock was starting to get a little easier. He didn't have to think about it as long in order to figure out what time it was.

"Where's Sebby?" he asked suddenly, more to himself than Mycroft.

The kidnapper set his cup down on a porcelain saucer. There was a disapproving look in his eyes. Jim didn't know what he did wrong but he tried not to care. Only Sebby got to tell him what to do and make him feel bad whenever he did something wrong.

Jim hoped that Sebby was close to finding him. Maybe the sniper was at the front door right now, ready to shoot it down and everyone in it. He would grab Jim and carry him over his shoulder while he ran back to their safe home. Jim would plant a sweet kiss on Sebby's mouth and the sniper would give him some ice cream to help him forget the traumatic experience.

He couldn't remember much of what he was like before he changed. Sebby told Jim that he was the most feared criminal in the world. Jim thought that sounded very cool. Sebby once said that Jim might turn back to normal one day. He hoped so. Jim liked the idea of people fearing him, instead of the other way around.

Mycroft reached over and placed his hand on Jim's shoulder. This unnerved the ex-villain mastermind.

"Sebby's not here. But you don't need him," Mycroft said it simply and without emotion.

That was wrong. Jim had always needed Sebby and he always will. And best of all, Sebby wanted to take care of him. Mycroft had no right to tell him that Sebby wasn't needed. It was Sebby who gave Jim soup when Jim was sick. It was Sebby who held Jim close on the bed when Jim couldn't sleep because he watched a scary movie. It was Sebby who took Jim out to eat just so he could spoil him.

The hand, thankfully, left Jim's shoulder. Mycroft took another sip of his tea. Jim sipped his too and the sugary drink pleasantly warmed his tongue.

"What do you like to do for fun?" Mycroft suddenly asked. He was offering him a friendly smile. That was weird. Did kidnappers normally chat like this with their captives? Jim didn't know. He couldn't remember if he ever kidnapped anybody or not.

Maybe he had kidnapped this man's brother and that was why Mycroft wanted to punish him. The name Sherlock continued to ring inside his head. Where had he heard the name before?

Jim shifted in his seat uncomfortably when Mycroft's eyes bored inside his. He took another bite of his cookie, hoping to stall so he wouldn't have to talk to him. He chewed thoroughly and slowly.

"Don't be rude. Please answer the question," Mycroft said patiently.

Seeing that he could stall no longer, Jim placed the cookie down on his plate.

"Draw, I guess."

Mycroft smiled with eyes gleaming in interest.

"I see. You draw, do you? Are you good?"

"I guess."

"Can you draw something for me?" Mycroft smiled as if he could charm Jim into the idea.

Jim frowned. He only drew for Sebby. He always liked to see the sniper's eyes light up whenever he gave him something he worked hard on. Sometimes he drew him a vulture. Sometimes it was a devil. But he usually drew him a big, ferocious tiger.

"I don't want to," Jim complained.

"Please? I'll give you a cupcake after dinner tonight," Mycroft promised.

He was planning on keeping him after dinner? When could Jim go home? He really wanted to be with Sebby.

One of the guards came up and whispered in Mycroft's ear. The kidnapper frowned at whatever the guard was saying. Suddenly, Mycroft stood up.

"I'll be right back, Jim. Someone will take you to your room and you'll be provided with some art supplies. I'll have a reward for you if you draw something by the time I get back."

He looked back at the guard and followed him out the room. Jim felt another guard tap his shoulder. Getting the cue, Jim stood up and followed the guard. There was another one right at his heels so Jim couldn't backtrack or run away.

This place was huge. The guards took Jim down long stairs until they reached the bottom floor. They continued on to the right, underneath an elegant golden chandelier, pass the large window overseeing a beautiful garden and down to the end of the hallway. Jim's room was at the very end.

Since he had no other choice, Jim went inside the room. The door shut and locked. It only opened back up long enough for someone to come in with art supplies.

Suddenly Jim had a thought. What if the reward Mycroft was talking about was his freedom? Would he let him go if Jim drew him something?

It was worth a try. Jim sat on the floor and dug his hand into the black bag, pulling out a box of coloring pencils and some paper. He planned on drawing Mycroft a simple bird. But if he made it really good, he would have a better chance to gain his freedom.

With a black pencil in hand, Jim started outlining a bird on a branch. For some reason, his drawing abilities were not deteriorated after the accident. He managed to draw a very realistic canary, one that had a worm in its beak. As Jim drew the worm struggling to get out alive, he thought about Sebby once more. Surely he was worried. Jim hoped that Sebby wouldn't be angry at him for getting captured.

He frowned as he thought about it. Sebby wouldn't punish him again, would he? It was frightening to think about. Sebby punished him a lot, so it wasn't hard for him to believe that the sniper would be angry at Jim when he found him.

But he still wanted to see him again. Jim knew that the sniper cared. Jim finished his picture and began coloring.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim finished coloring and shading the last bit of feathers. He took a moment to admire his work. The bird looked so real that it could've just flown right off the page. Jim made sure that the worm wiggled in fear so that the picture added some tension. Surely Mycroft would like this enough to let him go.

Satisfied, Jim put the art supplies back in the bag. Moran always told him to pick up after himself. No one had yet come to get him so Jim wandered around the room. There wasn't much to occupy himself except a telly. He found a remote close by and flicked on the screen.

It opened up to the local news. Jim hated the news. It was so boring.

He flicked the channels until he landed on a children's show about a boy with a magical crayon. It reminded Jim of his drawing. The boy drew a simple line and used it as a rope to escape the hungry tigers. Jim was on the edge of his seat as the boy rushed through the jungle.

He was so engrossed in the telly that he didn't notice the door opening.

"Ah! There you are. Do you have the drawing?" Mycroft asked.

Jim turned to the man. Mycroft's nice dress coat was gone, showing the plain yet delicate white shirt underneath. The kidnapper also didn't have his umbrella. Mycroft had a bag in his hand that looked similar to the art bag Jim had been given.

"Here," Jim mumbled, showing him the drawing without enthusiasm.

Mycroft's eyes shone in delight and wonder. He obviously wasn't expecting something that good from Jim. Mycroft took the drawing and examined it.

"It's wonderful. How absolutely charming. You have a natural gift, Jimmy."

Jim stared at him.

"Jimmy?"

Mycroft smiled sheepishly.

"Excuse me. That just slipped out of my mouth. Here's your reward."

He handed Jim the bag. Jim didn't want whatever was in it, unless it was the key to his escape. Jim looked inside and gasped.

It was a stuffed animal. A stuffed tiger, to be exact. It's beady green eyes looked like they were almost sparkling. He took it out, admiring its soft fur and poking at its cloth-y fangs.

It was a very nice doll. And it was big enough for Jim to squeeze at night. He decided he would give it a test hug. Yes. It was a really good hug.

Mycroft smiled when he saw Jim embrace his gift.

"I'm glad you like it. But Jim. Do you know what time it is?" asked the kidnapper.

Jim looked at the clock and paused. 4:59. He felt like he forgot about something but he couldn't recall. What was the significance of...

The minute hand moved and Mycroft sat down on the chair he used before. He patted his lap.

"Time for your punishment. Lie down on my lap."

It took a moment for what had been just said to click in Jim's mind. Once it did, he shook his head. Mycroft narrowed his eyes, suddenly looking very dangerous. It unnerved Jim to see such a dark look from him even though he had seen the look before. Scared, Jim instinctively held the doll for comfort.

"Do it," Mycroft commanded quietly yet harshly, "Or else I'll punish Sebby instead. And his punishment will be much worse."

He didn't realize he was trembling until Jim took a step forward. He couldn't let Sebby get hurt. Not his Sebby.

Every step closer to Mycroft was like a step closer to hell. Jim desperately wanted to run the other way. Mycroft looked so scary, even if he was now smiling in approval. The smile was full of hinted threats and misleading comfort.

Shakily, Jim pulled himself over Mycroft's lap. He wasn't very heavy so Mycroft didn't have much trouble. Mycroft didn't seem to be as strong as Sebby, so maybe it wouldn't hurt as much.

However, Mycroft surprised him by grabbing the remote in his hand. He flicked the telly off so Jim relaxed. Until Mycroft spoke again, that is.

"This will do for now. It won't hurt as much as I like but it will make the point clear," Mycroft said simply, his voice betraying no emotion.

Jim tried not to struggle. He was too worried about whatever Mycroft would do to Sebby to make the kidnapper angry. However, this thought was lost when he felt his pants being pulled down. He began kicking and thrashing in an attempt to get away.

Mycroft managed to hold him down.

"Don't be a bad boy or else Sebby will be really hurt. And it will be all your fault. Do you really want that, Jim?" Mycroft growled out.

The scream caught in his throat, Jim relaxed his muscles by half a fraction. His eyes were tightly shut and he bit his bottom lip. By focusing on the pain of his lip, maybe he wouldn't even notice-

_Wham!_

Jim gave a startled cry, surprised by how strong the man was. This hurt worse than the last punishment he had with Sebby. Mycroft relentlessly struck him again and again, making sure that his ass would feel the sensation for days to come.

"I want Sebby! Sebby!" Jim cried, tears falling down on his face, clutching onto his doll.

Mycroft spanked even harder when he heard Jim call for the other man, as if he was punishing Jim for mentioning him. After 10 hard strikes, it was over.

"Stand up," Mycroft ordered over Jim's sobbing.

The ex criminal mastermind got up with as much dignity as he could muster. He automatically held onto the wounded area and felt heat radiating from there. His face was raw red with anguish but Mycroft showed no remorse.

"Stand in the corner. Quietly. And think about what you've done," Mycroft pointed to the bare corner he wanted to see Jim in.

Angry but much more frightened, Jim rushed over. He didn't realize that his pants were still down until he walked. He was about to pull them up when the elder Holmes stopped him.

"No. Keep them down until your punishment is over."

Jim gulped loudly. He felt Mycroft's eyes boring at his back. It was scary to think of those cold eyes looking at his bare bottom. Jim sniffled a little but otherwise said nothing.

Minutes passed and Jim wanted to lie down. Standing was beginning to feel uncomfortable and he was in too much pain to sit down.

"Can I get out now?" he asked without looking at Mycroft.

"Keep quiet and stay there until I say otherwise," came the harsh reply.

A few more minutes and Jim rubbed his eye. Sebby made him took naps after lunch and now Jim was feeling tired due to missing a day. His body had gotten used to going to sleep around 1 p.m. He wanted to snuggle with his new tiger doll.

"It's not even dinner yet and you're tired?" Mycroft asked, sounding curious.

Jim didn't know if he was supposed to speak, so he just nodded. He heard Mycroft chuckle.

"Alright. Why don't you lie down for a few minutes? Then we'll have dinner. Would you like roasted duck? You can have that cupcake after wards," Mycroft sounded a lot more pleasant and good natured than during Jim's punishment.

"Is the punishment done?" Jim asked hopefully.

He turned to Mycroft, who nodded at him. Jim took this opportunity to pull his pants back up. Mycroft allowed it this time.

"Yes. But if you make me mad again, you will be punished again. Alright?"

Jim rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked over to the bed, lying down on his stomach. His chin rested on the pillow. Sebby had to be coming soon, right? Right?

He felt Mycroft sit on the bed. Jim made a movement to get up but Mycroft held his back lightly, silently telling him to stay put.

"There's nothing to worry about," Mycroft whispered kindly, "Relax. I won't hurt you."

Mycroft's hand trailed to Jim's head. He began petting the black hair soothingly.

"So smooth. You must take good care of your hair. Too bad not everyone has the same standards for hygiene as you and I do," commented Mycroft.

Jim said nothing. He yawned. He was still afraid but he knew acting out would only put Moran in danger. And right now he just wanted to escape the situation by falling asleep. Maybe by the time he woke up, Moran would come to his rescue.

He didn't care about some cupcake. He wanted Sebby.


End file.
